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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29524212">Remember Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MollyPollyKinz/pseuds/MollyPollyKinz'>MollyPollyKinz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sad Guitars and Soft Lullabies [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Child Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Tommy plays guitar, Wilbur's the major character death, You have to squint, awesamdad, implied suicidal thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:14:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,243</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29524212</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MollyPollyKinz/pseuds/MollyPollyKinz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“It was Wilbur’s,” he said quietly.</p><p>“The guitar?” Sam clarified with equal solemnity.</p><p>“I just—” Tommy took a deep breath. “—it helps keep him close, y’know? He taught me to play, and now that he’s gone…”</p><p>“I understand,” Sam said after a pause.</p><p> </p><p>Or, the fic in which Tommy plays Wilbur's guitar as tribute to him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Sam | Awesamdude &amp; TommyInnit, Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sad Guitars and Soft Lullabies [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2193285</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>920</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Completed stories I've read, Favorite DreamSMP Fics, MCYT Fic Rec</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Remember Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wilbur had left his guitar in Pogtopia on the day he pressed the button.</p><p>Tommy had never planned to return to Pogtopia.</p><p>But Wilbur had loved his guitar before he lost himself to paranoia, and Tommy couldn’t stand the thought of it just wasting away in that ravine.</p><p>
  <em>“I promise to make sure your guitars are well taken care of.” Tommy had told Wilbur once.</em>
</p><p>So, Tommy returned to the place he’d rather forget and found the guitar in Wilbur’s bedroom. It was coated in grime and dust, and the strings would need replacing, but it wasn’t beyond repair, and that was good enough for Tommy.</p><p>Tommy brought the instrument to his home in New L’manberg, and he cleaned the outside and replaced the strings. And when he was done, he set it against his bedroom wall. Wilbur would be glad to know that his guitar was being well taken care of, and that was good enough for him.</p><p>He never planned on playing the instrument.</p><p>But one night, he woke up with the sounds of screams and explosions and withers ringing in his ears, and he needed a distraction.</p><p>Tommy stumbled out of bed, considering getting himself a drink of coffee or something like that when he spotted the guitar sitting against the wall.</p><p>Wilbur used to play the guitar whenever he couldn’t sleep at night or had nightmares. Tommy knew because he would hear him, usually he would fall asleep to the sounds of Wilbur's guitar in the middle of the night. </p><p> </p><p>“Wilbur?” Tommy had asked one night when he was eight, “Can I come in?”</p><p>Wilbur set his guitar down on the ground next to him and nodded, gesturing to his lap. “What’s the matter, Toms?”</p><p>Tommy sat down in Wilbur’s lap, resting his head against his brother’s chest. “I can’t sleep,” he muttered.</p><p>“Do you want me to stop playing?” Wilbur asked, gently rubbing Tommy’s back.</p><p>Tommy shook his head. “Usually it helps.”</p><p>Wilbur hummed. “Do you want to sit with me while I play? I won’t mind if you fall asleep on my bed.”</p><p>Tommy nodded and shuffled out of Wilbur’s lap. Wilbur grabbed his guitar and sat down on his bed, and Tommy quickly scrambled up next to him.</p><p>After a few minutes of listening to Wilbur play, Tommy asked, “Can I play?”</p><p>Wilbur blinked, staring at Tommy. “Do you know how to play?”</p><p>Tommy nodded. “All you have to do is put your fingers on the strings and then strum,” he said like it was obvious, “That’s not so hard.”</p><p>Wilbur laughed. “Not quite. Here, I’ll teach you.”</p><p>Wilbur stood up and searched through his closet, pulling out a smaller guitar. “I used this when I was your age,” he said, handing the instrument to Tommy.</p><p>Tommy quickly held the guitar like Wilbur did, enthralled by the power of holding an instrument in his own hands.</p><p>“So, first I’ll show you the D-chord,” Wilbur said, “You place your first finger <em>there, </em>and then your second finger <em>here, </em>and then your third finger <em>there.”</em></p><p>Tommy did exactly as Wilbur showed him. He then immediately began to strum all of the strings. He scowled at the horrible sound that came out.</p><p>Wilbur stifled a laugh. “You only play the bottom four strings. Like this.” Wilbur strummed down on the bottom four strings, and a nice sound came out.</p><p>Tommy copied him, being careful not touch the top two strings. Still, a ugly noise emerged from the instrument.</p><p>Tommy scowled once again, frustrated.</p><p>“I think your instrument is broken,” he said sullenly.</p><p>“It’s not broken,” Wilbur said patiently, “You’re just not pressing down all of the strings properly.”</p><p>“Yes, I am,” Tommy argued, “It’s the instrument. You try it.”</p><p>Wilbur put his guitar to the side and took Tommy’s. The small instrument looked funny in the hands of a sixteen-year-old Wilbur.</p><p>Tommy was indignant when Wilbur played the D-chord perfectly on the broken instrument.</p><p>“It takes a lot of practice,” Wilbur said, handing the guitar back to Tommy, “I sounded about that bad when I started playing too.”</p><p>“You make it look so easy,” Tommy pouted.</p><p>“It does get easier,” Wilbur said, “But only after you <em>practice.”</em></p><p>They spent the next hour working on different chords. It was loud and repetitive, but there was no one else in the house to care. Phil and Techno were gone on another one of their adventures.</p><p>Eventually Tommy fell asleep on top of the tiny guitar. Wilbur took a picture of it, the traitor.</p><p> </p><p>Now, at sixteen, Tommy took the guitar with trembling hands and sat down on his own bed. Carefully, he placed his fingers in position for the D-chord and strummed with his thumb.</p><p>The sound didn’t sound like a strangled horse, but it wasn’t exactly beautiful either. Tommy had gotten rusty, which made sense, considering he hadn’t played since he was thirteen.</p><p>Still, it wasn’t like there was anyone else in his house, so he played a very ugly sounding version of one of Wilbur’s songs, wishing that Wilbur were here to correct his fingering.</p><p>
  <em>“When I’m gone, will you remember me?” Wilbur had asked once.</em>
</p><p>Yeah, Tommy remembered.</p><p>And if he cried over the empty space beside him where his brother used to be, nobody would know.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy started playing the guitar every night after that.</p><p>When Ghostbur showed up, Tommy showed him the guitar. Ghostbur showed Tommy how to play the more complicated chords that Tommy had forgotten, as well as a few chord progressions that the amnesiac ghost could manage to remember.</p><p>Still, it wasn’t the same as having Wilbur on those lonely nights.</p><p>It was better than having Wilbur in Pogtopia, though, and Tommy hated himself for thinking it.</p><p>When Dream started calling for Tommy’s exile, Tommy started keeping the guitar in his ender chest. Maybe it was paranoid of him, but he didn’t want Dream getting his hands on the instrument.</p><p>For good reason too.</p><p>
  <em>“Dream, please detain and escort Tommy out of my country.”</em>
</p><p>Tommy was alone.</p><p>
  <em>“Promise me you won’t be alone,” Wilbur had said.</em>
</p><p>So much for that promise.</p><p>“Tommy, give me all your things,” Dream said in the half-built dirt hut.</p><p>Tommy gaped. “No. I have all my things!”</p><p>Ghostbur immediately began dumping all of his items on the ground, and Dream created a hole. Tommy continued protesting.</p><p>“Drop them down,” Dream said, as if talking to a disobedient child.</p><p>“Or what?” Tommy demanded.</p><p>“Or… I will kill you.”</p><p>Tommy froze. “Fully kill me?”</p><p>Dream smiled as he dug farther down. “Yes.”</p><p>Yeah, like he was going to give this jerk the satisfaction.</p><p>“Well I,” Tommy swallowed, “I don’t care.”</p><p>Dream hit him with his axe, and Tommy immediately began dropping all of his items down. He wasn’t ready to die. Not yet.</p><p>Tommy was grateful he didn’t have the guitar with him, though. He would’ve probably dropped it into the hole during his shocked panic, and then it would’ve been destroyed like everything else.</p><p>Still, it was hard to sleep for the first few nights before he made an ender chest. He hadn’t realized how much he had come to depend on the guitar for comfort until it was gone.</p><p>Dream continued to visit every day, destroying Tommy’s armor and offering friendship. Eventually, Tommy felt safe enough around him to play the guitar in his presence.</p><p>When he was done, he glanced up nervously at Dream. Did he like it? Did he hate it? Was he going to take the guitar away too, even though it was the only thing he had left of Wilbur?</p><p>To Tommy’s immense relief, Dream smiled and said, “That’s really good, Tommy! Where’d you learn to play?”</p><p>Tommy flushed at the praise. “Um… Wilbur taught me, before…”</p><p>Before everything went to crap.</p><p>Dream placed a comforting hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry that Wilbur had to leave you like that.”</p><p>Tommy smiled, wiping away a few tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes. “It’s not your fault. It was mine for not saving him.”</p><p>Dream hummed. “Yes, well, there’s no point in dwelling on it now.”</p><p>That night, Tommy went to sleep without putting Wilbur’s guitar back into his ender chest. The next morning, he found the thing broken in two, wood splinters all over the ground.</p><p>Tommy collapsed to his knees, desperately trying to collect the small splinters of wood, desperately trying to hold the guitar back together.</p><p>But it was beyond repair.</p><p>Sobbing, Tommy put the guitar pieces into his ender chest, cursing his idiocy.</p><p>
  <em>“I promise to make sure your guitars are well taken care of.”</em>
</p><p>It looked like Tommy was breaking promises left and right.</p><p>When Dream found the distraught Tommy that day, he held him close, stroking his hair.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Dream said, “It must’ve been someone from L’manberg. They must’ve wanted to hurt you.”</p><p>Tommy clutched onto Dream’s sweater all the more tightly at those words. “It was my fault,” he sobbed, “It was stupid of me to leave it out. I just, I just don’t understand why they would do that.”</p><p>“They don’t care about you, Tommy,” Dream said, “They only want to see you hurt.”</p><p>“I know,” Tommy gasped, burying his face into Dream’s shoulder, “And now I’m being pathetic all over you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”</p><p>“That’s alright,” Dream said calmly, “You know what? Today you can keep your armor.”</p><p>Tommy looked up at Dream in surprise.</p><p>“Really?” he whispered.</p><p>Dream smiled. “Really.”</p><p>It wasn’t until later that Tommy realized that it was a triumphant smile instead of a kind one. It wasn’t until Tommy was safely at Techno’s house that Tommy realized Dream had probably been the one to break Wilbur’s guitar, not someone from L’manberg.</p><p> </p><p>“You… what?” Techno asked Tommy one night.</p><p>Tommy felt his face grow warm, and he forced himself not to curl in on himself. Techno wasn’t Dream. Techno wouldn’t hurt him.</p><p>“That guitar,” Tommy said, his voice still wavering ever so slightly. He pointed to the guitar sitting on a stand in the corner of Techno’s room. “It belonged to Wilbur, right? I, uh, wanted to know if I could play it. If, uh, you don’t mind, that is.”</p><p>Techno gave Tommy a surveying look. “You know how to play the guitar?” he finally asked.</p><p>Tommy forced back a scowl, but he wasn’t sure how successful he was. “Of course I know how to play the guitar,” Tommy snapped, “Wilbur had to teach me something while you were off with Phil.”</p><p>Something flashed across Techno’s face, and Tommy took a tiny step back.</p><p>Techno was silent for what felt like an eternity, but finally, he said, “Okay, you can take the guitar. It’s just been gathering dust in my room anyway.”</p><p>Tommy almost cried from gratitude. He almost tackled Techno with a hug. But instead, he nodded, swallowing back the lump in his throat.</p><p>“Thanks, big man,” he said, carefully picking up the guitar.</p><p>It was older than the one in Pogtopia. Tommy recognized it as the one Wilbur had for the vast majority of Wilbur’s teenage years until Wilbur had finally saved up enough money to buy a new one.</p><p>In a way, this guitar was far more valuable than the one Dream destroyed. He could see a crayon mark from when Tommy was three and tried to draw on Wilbur’s guitar. (Not that he remembered that event; Wilbur had just liked telling him that story.) Tommy saw a small dent from when Wilbur dropped the guitar on his way down the stairs. As far as things went, it was a pretty solid instrument.</p><p>“<em>I promise to make sure your guitars are well taken care of.”</em></p><p>He would make sure that this one didn’t get snapped in half.</p><p> </p><p>Techno didn’t know what to expect when Tommy said he knew how to play the guitar, but the kid was actually <em>good.</em></p><p>Tommy typically played in the middle of the night, which might’ve been aggravating if the playing wasn’t <em>incredibly</em> reminiscent of Wilbur.</p><p>The voices had their own opinions on the subject.</p><p>
  <em>Nice strings. <strong>I want sleep. </strong>Sounds like Wilbur. <strong>I want sleep, please, I’m begging.</strong></em>
</p><p>Techno ignored the voices, instead electing to go downstairs and make himself a small cup of tea in the kitchen. As he sipped on the warm drink, Techno closed his eyes, pretending that he was back in one of those few times Techno was at home, listening to Wilbur play the guitar upstairs.</p><p>Tommy was angry. Tommy was angry with Techno and Phil for leaving all the time. Techno wasn’t sure he could blame him. How long had Tommy known how to play the guitar? What other things about Tommy did Techno know nothing about?</p><p>Besides the obvious, of course. It was clear that Tommy was hiding the vast majority of the truth about exile.</p><p>And then Tommy betrayed Techno, taking that guitar with him.</p><p>“Where’s Wilbur’s guitar?” Phil asked.</p><p>“Tommy has it,” Techno said bitterly, “He took it with him.”</p><p>Phil’s face darkened. “Didn’t he already take the one from Pogtopia?”</p><p>Techno sighed. “Well, he clearly didn’t have it by the time he got to my base,” he said, “Because the kid looked about ready to beg for permission to use mine.”</p><p>Phil raised his eyebrows. “Tommy knows how to play?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Techno said. He shut his eyes. “He’s pretty good too.”</p><p>“Huh,” Phil said, “Who would’ve thought?”</p><p>Techno thought back to Tommy’s statement from before. <em>“Wilbur had to teach me something while you were off with Phil.”</em></p><p>Well, at least the instrument was being put to good use. Techno had a feeling that Wilbur would’ve preferred that anyway.</p><p> </p><p>The night before doomsday, Tommy sat on the bed of his dirt home, strumming the chords of L’manberg’s national anthem.</p><p>
  <em>They say there was a special place…</em>
</p><p>And then L’manberg was nothing more than a crater in the ground, with Dream promising that he wasn’t done with Tommy yet, because Tommy was <em>too fun. </em>And to think that Tommy had <em>sobbed </em>into his shoulder, all while Dream was probably patting himself on the back.</p><p>Tommy refused to think about Dream’s sickening smirk as he, Quackity, Ghostbur, and Tubbo all sang the national anthem one last time.</p><p>Tommy played Wilbur’s guitar. Tommy led the verses. Tommy was the only one who remembered the words.</p><p>
  <em>“Will you remember me?”</em>
</p><p>Quackity stated that he never knew Tommy played guitar. Tubbo just gave him a sad look.</p><p>“What happened to the other one?” Tubbo would ask later.</p><p>“Dream destroyed it,” Tommy said shortly, and nothing more was said about that.</p><p>And then Dream sent them a message, telling him and Tubbo to meet him alone or he’ll destroy the discs.</p><p> </p><p>The day before Tommy was probably going to die, Tommy went to Technoblade’s house, ready to apologize for switching sides so suddenly.</p><p>The apology went about as well as one could expect. As in, Techno caught Tommy instinctively stealing form him.</p><p>“I feel like this coming to my base to apologize would have more weight if I didn’t have to chase you down after catching you breaking through my walls, yoinking my things—”</p><p>“I didn’t do that,” Tommy lied obviously. He sighed. “Look, apologizing wasn’t the only thing I came here to do.”</p><p>Techno raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, and why else are you here?”</p><p>Tommy reached into his inventory, pulling out his guitar. Shaking, he held out the instrument to Techno.</p><p>“Um… this belongs to you,” he said quietly.</p><p>Tommy hated the idea of parting with the guitar, of parting with one of the last things he had of Wilbur. But the simple fact was that this was also one of the last things Techno had left of Wilbur, and it wasn’t right for Tommy to take that away because of his own selfishness.</p><p>Techno stared at the guitar in Tommy’s outstretched hand.</p><p>“What?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised.</p><p>“It’s yours,” Tommy snapped, “So take it already, my arm is getting tired.”</p><p>Techno was quiet for a few more moments, and Tommy opened his mouth to shout—</p><p>“You know what,” Techno said slowly, “You keep it.”</p><p>Tommy stared. This was not how he was expecting this conversation to go.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Techno shrugged. “You keep it. It was only gathering dust with me.”</p><p>“But, but—” Tommy struggled to find the words. “—don’t you want it?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Techno admitted, “But you need it more.”</p><p>Tommy didn’t lower his arm, instead taking a step toward Techno. “Please, you have to take it, I can’t have it.”</p><p>Techno frowned. “Why not?”</p><p>“Because I’m going to die tomorrow, Techno!” Tommy shouted, “I’m going to die, and Dream is going to be the one to kill me.”</p><p>And Tommy hoped that Tubbo would have enough time and enough common sense to run away. But that meant Dream was going to be the one to pick Wilbur’s guitar off of Tommy’s corpse, and the thought of Dream touching another one of <em>Wilbur’s </em>guitars with his slimy fingers was too much for Tommy to stand.</p><p>And maybe Tommy should stick the instrument in an enderchest, but Tommy knew that he wouldn’t be able to. Tommy couldn’t stand the thought of leaving the instrument to be unseen in a chest for the rest of its days any more than he could stand the thought of Dream having it.</p><p>“I, I don’t want him to have it,” Tommy said.</p><p>Techno’s face darkened, and Tommy flinched in spite of himself.</p><p>“If you die and he has it,” he said, “I’ll take it off of his corpse.”</p><p>Tommy didn’t leave the guitar with Techno that day.</p><p> </p><p>“Give me the guitar, Tommy,” Dream said, pointing his sword at Tubbo.</p><p>Tommy’s mouth was dry, and his voice came out as a small squeak. “What?”</p><p>“I know you have it.” Dream tilted his head. “Give me the guitar, and I won’t kill Tubbo.”</p><p>Tommy looked a terrified Tubbo in the eyes, and he knew he had no real choice in the manner.</p><p>Hating himself with every fiber of his being, Tommy pulled the guitar out of his inventory and handed it to Dream.</p><p>Dream laughed.</p><p>“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asked.</p><p>Tommy flinched. He wasn’t in Logstedshire.</p><p>That wasn’t as comforting as it could’ve been, not with Tubbo’s life on the line.</p><p>Dream showed him his underground base, full of empty item frames and animal stalls. Tommy felt sick when he saw the item frame nearest to the disc room.</p><p>
  <em>Wilbur’s Guitar.</em>
</p><p>“I think this belongs here,” Dream said sweetly, placing the guitar in the item frame.</p><p>Tommy found himself shaking. That wasn’t his. That was <em>Wilbur’s, </em>and he was putting it on display like some sort of <em>trophy—</em></p><p>“Oh, don’t look so upset,” Dream said in a deadpan tone of voice, “It’s not like you won’t see it again.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Tommy asked, forcing his voice to stay as hard as cobblestone.</p><p>Dream hummed. “You’ll see.”</p><p>And then Dream almost killed Tubbo and dragged Tommy to Sam’s prison, but Punz came, and Tommy killed Dream and stuck him in the prison instead. Tommy couldn't help but to be surprised that he was more relieved to get the guitar back than the discs. </p><p> </p><p>Wilbur never mentioned the guitar when he visited him and Tubbo from the grave, asking how Tommy had managed to beat Dream. Tommy wondered if he had even known.</p><p>
  <em>“I’m proud of you, Tommy.”</em>
</p><p>Tommy supposed he would have to be satisfied with that for now.</p><p>After Wilbur left, Tommy played a short victory song while Tubbo sang along. It felt good.</p><p> </p><p>They tried to resurrect Wilbur. They asked Tommy to bring the guitar. Tommy did. It didn’t work out.</p><p>Tommy couldn’t decide if he was relieved or not.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy commissioned Sam to build his hotel. Tommy almost got kidnapped by Bad, who was now an egg fanatic. Sam got successfully trapped by Bad, and Tommy and Puffy had to rescue him.</p><p>The night after that unfortunate event, Tommy visited Sam, who was still recovering. Sam Nook had said that Sam was doing better and that Tommy shouldn’t worry. Tommy still worried, which was stupid, because Tommy wasn’t a worrier.</p><p>When Tommy reached Sam’s house, he found Sam curled up in his couch, Fran sitting in his lap.</p><p>“Um, hi Sam,” Tommy muttered quietly.</p><p>Sam looked up at Tommy, smiling slightly. “Hi, Tommy,” he said, sounding slightly groggy, “Come to visit?”</p><p>
  <em>“Promise me you won’t be alone.”</em>
</p><p>He’d try.</p><p>“Um, yeah.” Tommy stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do with himself.</p><p>“You can sit down,” Sam said pleasantly, moving his hand ever so slightly to the empty spot next to him on the couch, “You don’t have to just stand there.”</p><p>“Uh, right,” Tommy said, cursing himself for his sudden shyness.</p><p>Maybe it was because he wasn’t used to seeing Sam like this. Maybe it was because Puffy told him to be gentle with Sam, so he was overdoing it.</p><p>Maybe it was because Tommy was a cowardly idiot.</p><p>Tommy sat down on the couch, careful not to sit too close to Sam. Fran looked in Tommy’s direction, and Tommy gave Sam a questioning look.</p><p>“You can pet her,” Sam said, “Don’t worry.”</p><p>Tommy nodded, carefully scratching Fran from behind the ears.</p><p>But Tommy didn’t come to enjoy petting a dog. He came to see if he could help Sam. What did normal people say when they were visiting someone who had just been through something traumatizing?</p><p>“So, um, how are you doing?” Tommy asked.</p><p>Prime, what sort of question was that? How are you doing? Really?</p><p>Sam, to Tommy’s immense relief, did not look insulted. “I’ve been better,” he admitted, “I’m glad you visited though.”</p><p>Tommy flushed, looking down at his feet. “It was nothing,” he muttered.</p><p>“I would argue that it was more than nothing,” Sam said quietly, “I don’t exactly live nearby.”</p><p>Why was Sam making such a big deal out of this? Was he annoyed by Tommy’s presence? Was he telling Tommy not to bother next time?</p><p>“I can leave if you want.” Tommy stood up.</p><p>“No,” Sam said quickly, “I’m just grateful, that’s all. You can stay as long as you’d like.”</p><p>Tommy looked at Sam suspiciously, but he slowly sat back down.</p><p>He and Sam talked about simple things for a bit, Tommy doing most of the talking. Eventually, Tommy found himself pulling out Wilbur’s guitar, idly strumming some chords.</p><p>“You play?” Sam asked.</p><p>Tommy nodded. He was tired of explaining.</p><p>“You sound good.”</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p> </p><p>Later, Tommy properly explained to Sam.</p><p>“It was Wilbur’s,” he said quietly.</p><p>“The guitar?” Sam clarified with equal solemnity.</p><p>Tommy nodded.</p><p>“I just—” Tommy took a deep breath. “—it helps keep him close, y’know? He taught me to play, and now that he’s gone…”</p><p>“I understand,” Sam said after a pause. He smiled warmly at Tommy. “I bet he’d be proud of you.”</p><p>Tommy nodded.</p><p>“He never wanted me to be alone, you know,” Tommy said quietly, “But, uh, I guess that didn’t go according to plan.”</p><p>Sam rested his hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “You’re not alone,” he promised, “Not anymore.”</p><p>Tommy gave Sam a small smile, holding back tears. “Yeah.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Hey, Tommy?” Wilbur said one day, when Tommy was fourteen and Wilbur was twenty-two.</p><p>“Yeah?” Tommy asked.</p><p>“Will you remember me?” he asked, staring up at the sky, “When I’m gone, will you remember me?”</p><p>Tommy scoffed and rolled his eyes. “What sort of question is that?”</p><p>“<em>Tommy</em>,” Wilbur said quietly, sounding heart-achingly grave.</p><p>Tommy stared. He didn’t like to think about Wilbur dying. He didn’t like to think about Wilbur leaving him alone.</p><p>Still, Wilbur had asked, so Tommy swallowed and said, “Of course I’ll remember you.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Wilbur asked, “What if I screw up near the end? Will you still want to remember me? Or will you only remember me for the bad stuff?”</p><p>Tommy grabbed Wilbur’s hand, suddenly panicked. “Wilbur, why are you asking this? Please, you can’t leave, you can’t—”</p><p>“I’m not leaving,” Wilbur said calmly, giving Tommy a small smile, “I’ve just… I’ve been thinking of what would happen if I did.”</p><p>That was not all that reassuring, but Tommy slowly let go of Wilbur’s wrist.</p><p>“I would remember you,” Tommy said after a small pause, “I might hate you for the bad, but only because I loved you for the good.”</p><p>Wilbur laughed slightly. “When did you become so poetic?”</p><p>“When you started quoting literature at me,” Tommy said shortly, “It rubs off on a man, Wil.”</p><p>Wilbur closed his eyes and sighed. “Yeah, I guess so.”</p><p>They stood in silence for a moment before Wilbur spoke up again.</p><p>“Tommy…” he said, “Promise me you won’t be alone.”</p><p>Tommy glanced up in surprise. “What?”</p><p>“Promise me you won’t be alone,” Wilbur repeated, “It’s not a very fun thing to be. I don’t want you to be an adult too soon.”</p><p>“You aren’t leaving,” Tommy said stubbornly, “So it won’t be an issue.”</p><p>“<em>Please</em>,” Wilbur whispered.</p><p>Tommy clenched his fists, feeling slightly uncomfortable with this conversation. “Okay,” he said, “I promise I won’t be alone.”</p><p>Wilbur smiled. “Good.”</p><p>“And,” Tommy added with a sudden burst of inspiration, “I promise to make sure your guitars are well taken care of. No one will be selling them on my watch.”</p><p>Wilbur laughed, a lot more loudly this time. “Thanks, Toms. That’s very thoughtful of you.”</p><p>Tommy grinned. “I know.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was inspired by my own <a href="https://mollypollykinz.tumblr.com/post/641738373584896000/sometimes-i-think-about-tommy-not-being-able-to">post</a> on tumblr. </p><p>I hope you enjoyed, please be nice in the comments, and thank you for reading! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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